


Courage

by spilled_notes



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:18:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6168775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jocelyn finds courage and the last fifteen years were very different.  An AU continuation of Moments in Time, inspired by a prompt from alwayssomethingelse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courage

The flat feels empty. Completely illogical, as she’s never shared it with anyone, but logic seems to be deserting her at the moment, however desperately she tries to cling to it. Jocelyn turns on the stereo, seeking to drive away the loneliness, but the music that fills the room brings a lump to her throat and a tightness to her chest. She stops it as soon as she can, fingers fumbling with buttons that suddenly seem far too small. She puts the radio on instead, but it’s too late: Bach is lodged in her mind.

And suddenly the flat is full of Maggie. In the kitchen, making risotto. At the table, reading the paper. In her arms, swaying around the room.

Jocelyn sinks onto the sofa, and her fingers land on soft, grey wool. She clutches it tightly, swallows hard but can’t stop her eyes from filling. As the music swells around her she lifts the blanket to her face, breathes the scent of Maggie, and soon it becomes damp with her tears.

*          *          *

‘You know, you’re lucky you’re so bloody good at your job, Jocelyn,’ Richard says, closing the door behind him even though it’s late and everyone but Tom has gone home.

Jocelyn looks up from where she’s slouched in her chair behind her desk. The rest of chambers have been tiptoeing around her all day – all week, really. From the look on her face he feels he’s taken his life into his hands following her into her office; Tom certainly shot him a worried look on his way past the clerks’ room. He can see her fighting the urge to snap at him, has known her long enough to recognise the warning signs. But someone has to say something, and no one else is going to volunteer.

‘I don’t know exactly what you said to Caroline at the CPS,’ he begins carefully, ‘but to say she’s not best pleased would be an understatement. However,’ he continues with a small smile, ‘she still wants to work with you.’ He sinks into the chair on the other side of the desk. ‘I think you could get away with murder and solicitors’d still be queuing up for you.’

‘I think murder would probably ruin my reputation,’ Jocelyn mutters.

‘You don’t get it, do you?’

‘What?’

He smiles slightly at her confused expression. ‘You’ve made it, Jocelyn. Your record is all anyone cares about now.’

‘Oh, come on,’ she scoffs.

‘I mean it.’

She looks at him, meets his gaze for a long moment. She knows when he’s lying, this man who has risen through the ranks with her, and there’s no deceit in his eyes.

‘What’s wrong, Jocelyn?’ he asks gently. ‘You haven’t been right since Christmas.’

He watches as the scowl is replaced by a pained expression; if he didn’t know any better he’d have said she was heartbroken, but Jocelyn has never been that sort.

‘Whatever it is, the CPS aren’t going to care unless it affects your work – which, judging by what I’ve heard about this morning, it is, so I recommend you fix it.’

‘And you? Will you care?’

‘As head of chambers? No. But as your friend, most definitely.’

‘You wouldn’t force me out, or reduce my caseload, because of things in my private life?’

‘As long as you haven’t done anything illegal,’ Richard teases. ‘I think murder might be over the line.’

Jocelyn doesn’t smile.

‘No, Jocelyn,’ he says seriously. ‘I’m not a fool – your job’s perfectly safe.’

‘A fool?’ she frowns.

‘You’re the best there is,’ he says simply. ‘The CPS solicitors wouldn’t hang around here, they’d follow you.’

She rubs her eyes, glances at him and then at the clock. He sees the moment she makes a decision by the change in her eyes, in her posture.

‘Jocelyn, what is it?’ he tries again.

‘I need to catch a train,’ she says, ignoring the question and standing.

‘Now? But you’re in court again first thing.’

‘I’ll be there,’ she promises. ‘But I think I made a huge mistake, and I need to at least try and put it right.’

Richard watches, stunned, as she gathers her things, leaves her office to find her coat.

‘Well,’ he murmurs, once he’s heard her footsteps down the hall and the front door close behind her. _Jocelyn Knight admitting she’s wrong. Might have to note that in the diary._

*          *          *

It’s late but Maggie’s still up, curled on the sofa in her pyjamas with a mug of tea. At least she can blame the howling wind and pelting rain for her tiredness at work in the morning, a much better excuse than she’s had every other day this year. She sips her tea, wishes fiercely that there was a cat beside her to stave off the loneliness.

 _Maybe a trip to the animal shelter on Saturday,_ she thinks.

A knock at the door startles her, almost makes her spill her tea. For a second she wonders if it was just the wind, but there it is again. She puts down her mug, wraps her dressing gown around herself and goes to answer.

Outside, windswept and soaked through, is Jocelyn.

For a moment all Maggie can do is stare. Then she steps back and silently allows her inside, locking the door against the storm. When she turns around Jocelyn has removed her coat; underneath she’s still in her suit and heels, as if she’s come straight from chambers.

Still in silence, Maggie puts the kettle on, finds two clean mugs, prepares the teapot. She can feel Jocelyn hovering nervously in the doorway behind her, can’t quite bring herself to invite her in to sit down. Doesn’t trust her voice to remain steady. She only comes in properly, if hesitantly, when Maggie sets the mugs down on opposite sides of the table, then sits and looks at her expectantly.

She watches as Jocelyn wraps her hands around the mug, sees the sleeplessness and pain etched on her face. Could be looking in a mirror.

‘So?’ she says softly, eyebrows raised.

Jocelyn looks up from her tea. One hand moves unconsciously to her neck, fingers toying with the collar of her blouse. She takes a breath, opens her mouth, then shuts it again.

‘What, the great Jocelyn Knight reduced to silence?’ Maggie teases, but there’s an edge to her voice that makes Jocelyn’s eyes snap to her own.

Maggie waits as Jocelyn searches her eyes, her face. She doesn’t bother to even try hiding the pain; no, let her see what she’s done. And then something changes in her expression, as if she’s made a decision. She sits a little straighter, sips her tea, takes another deep breath.

‘You know, I worked out exactly what I was going to say on the train,’ Jocelyn says quietly, gaze dropping back to her tea. ‘And as soon as I saw you I forgot all of it.’

Maggie forces herself to wait as Jocelyn takes another sip, can almost see her marshalling her thoughts.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says eventually, meeting Maggie’s eye again.

‘For what?’ Maggie asks cautiously.

‘For lying. I panicked. I thought if I just ignored what happened and went back to work then my feelings would go away and everything would go back to normal.’

‘You haven’t even given it a fortnight,’ Maggie forces herself to say lightly, ignoring the rush of hope at Jocelyn’s words.

‘Yes, well. In that time I’ve reduced both my junior and my new pupil to tears more than once, pissed off a CPS solicitor who brings us a lot of work, snapped at my clerk far too many times, and made a mistake in court than could well cost me the trial.’

Maggie raises her eyebrows. ‘Can you pull it back?’

‘I have no idea.’ Jocelyn sighs, looks away. ‘I thought I could compartmentalise, like I always have. I thought the distance, being back in London, would help, that I could just focus on my work and that would be enough.’

She pauses and Maggie bites her tongue, waits for her to continue though she longs to interrupt, interject, clarify.

‘Everything feels wrong, Maggie. And I’m terrified.’

‘Why?’ Maggie asks gently.

Jocelyn swallows hard. Maggie watches as she fiddles with her collar again, longs to cover those slender fingers with her own and still them. She can see the pulse racing in Jocelyn’s neck, her chest rising and falling a little too rapidly.

‘I’ve never felt like this before,’ she confesses eventually. ‘Work has always been everything to me.’

Jocelyn looks right at her, and Maggie sees pain and fear and resolve mingled with something she won’t allow herself to name.

‘But I’d risk it all for you.’

Maggie feels the breath leave her lungs in a soft ‘oh’. For a moment all she can hear is the thudding rush of blood in her ears. Frozen, she watches as Jocelyn rests a hand on the table between them, slowly reaches to cover it with her own. Jocelyn turns her hand to twine their fingers, squeezes gently.

‘You don’t want to be just friends?’ Maggie manages eventually, when the pounding has faded enough that she can hear again.

‘No.’

Maggie pulls her hand free and stands, crossing the kitchen to lean heavily against the counter, gripping the edge and staring at the fake marble. She can feel Jocelyn’s eyes on her back, almost sense her resisting the urge to follow and touch her.

And then suddenly she’s next to Jocelyn, one hand tangling in damp hair, the other on her cheek as she presses a kiss to tea-warmed lips. Jocelyn manages to rise, arms slipping around Maggie to hold her close, kisses becoming deeper until she tastes salt and draws back. Tears are streaming down Maggie’s face but she’s smiling. Jocelyn grins in return; she buries her nose in Maggie’s hair and breathes her in, and the world feels balanced again.

‘Can you stay?’ Maggie murmurs.

‘I have to be back in court in the morning. See if I can salvage the trial.’ She sighs. ‘If only I’d-‘

‘Don’t.’ Maggie raises her head from where she’s nestled into Jocelyn’s shoulder. ‘Don’t go there. We’re going to get some sleep,’ she says, leading Jocelyn from the kitchen and flicking off the light. ‘And then you’re going to go back tomorrow and win.’

‘What if I can’t?’ Jocelyn asks, stopping at the foot of the stairs. ‘What if he goes free because I let my personal life get in the way?’

‘He won’t.’

‘You can’t know that.’

‘I can,’ Maggie says, taking both of Jocelyn’s hands and looking at her seriously. ‘I do. Because you’re going to go back to London knowing that I-.’ She stops suddenly, drops her gaze to the floor.

‘That you what, Maggie?’ Jocelyn asks softly, a finger gently tilting her chin up until their eyes meet.

‘That I love you,’ she says simply. ‘Now come on, we’re going to have to be up early to get you in on time.’

She turns and tries to climb the stairs but Jocelyn tugs on her hand. Maggie looks at her questioningly, but the words lodge in Jocelyn’s throat. Instead she draws Maggie close and holds her tight, saying it with her body instead: I love you too.

*          *          *

Richard slips into the public gallery next morning unsure if he’s about to watch Jocelyn redeem herself or go down in flames. She looks tired, head bent over her papers scribbling last-minute notes, and he worries it’s going to be the latter. But as soon as she starts speaking his fears vanish. Jocelyn is back, and with a spark he’s not sure he’s ever seen before.

He leaves as quietly as he can. There’s no point staying; Jocelyn is outperforming even herself, even on her best days. The jury’s enthralled, and the defence lawyer doesn’t stand a chance. Richard breathes a sigh of relief and smiles to himself as he crosses the lobby and heads back to chambers. _Thank goodness for that._


End file.
